I quickly formatted the novel. It already looks like a book, is 216 pages long, which could translate into a 350-page book. From this perspective, everything appears so little. The sheets were coming out of the printer, and I was looking at the words. I had a certain discomfort and dizziness. Extracting sentences in this way makes no sense, my writing does not like draughts.
I sent my text in PDF to my former editor, since he had been asking for it for a long time. He’s no longer in the business, but he will undoubtedly be able to guide me. Also, I left a note to one of her collaborators from the Varia era. I loved this team of passionate people. Too bad the house no longer exists in their hands. The new team simply banned fiction from its shelves. (Varia’s website is no longer responding.)
I don’t know the world of literature, I don’t have access to it or have not been to trade fairs. So I go there very modestly, with no other expectation than hope.
The hardest thing to do is to stop thinking about this text and, above all, to force the imagination mill to roll its wheel again. We must not fall back into silence.
I will still have the courtesy to give the Les Mailles sanguines the chance to survive. I have renovations to complete anyway!